


Resurrection (fallen from grace)

by thisplace_ishaunted



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga), Motionless in White (Band)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Depression, Forked Tongue Action, Healing, Human/Monster Romance, I took some liberties with shinigami abilities, Internal Conflict, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Self-Harm, Shinigami, this is borderline Dead Dove so mind the tags pls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29610303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisplace_ishaunted/pseuds/thisplace_ishaunted
Summary: Chris is no savior… now he just orchestrates this sick and addictive game.  Chris would have never imagined that he would have to habitually destroy the human he only ever wanted to protect.or, in other words, Chris is a Shinigami and Ricky uses him in a way that Chris had not expected.
Relationships: Chris "Motionless" Cerulli/Ricky "Horror" Olson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Resurrection (fallen from grace)

**Author's Note:**

> Wow wee I seem to have taken a very long writing break. Even this was torturous to get myself to sit down and write. Please be kind, as I no longer feel like my writing is up to par and all of my previous confidence in my abilities has gone down the toilet.
> 
> I have had the idea for a Chris-as-a-Shinigami AU for nearly a year. Even if you are not familiar with Death Note, this should still make sense and should still be understandable for most. Also I am hoping the Death Note fandom doesn't obliterate me for this >.<
> 
> Heavy trigger warnings for self-hatred and self-harm and all that kind of stuff.

Ricky is on an island.Waves of tears crash against the rocks, a rainstorm pours from overhead.

Ricky is in hell.Flames lick on his skin, but the real heat smolders in his chest.

Ricky is in bed.Blankets and sheets and a soft mattress below are not enough to comfort him.He is still broken, he is still uncomfortable, but he is not alone. 

It would be useless to try to argue that Ricky only retreats to his bed at night.He seems to be here more often than he is not.When the noise of the world becomes too much, he recluses underneath his covers.He can feel the frustration and the anger and the anxiety pull taught like cords through his limbs and burn a hole in his chest.He turns on his side and crumples into a ball, the tension throughout his body released for a moment, then restringing in his new position.His knees are nearly to his eye sockets, his arms wrapped tightly around his shins.The hug of the mattress beneath him does no good when his discomfort is in his bones.Comfort is futile. Existence is futile. _He_ is futile.

Stuttered breathing and quiet sobs sound from where Ricky is curled up beneath the blanket.Chris watches as the material just barely rises and falls with his breaths.Chris has seen Ricky have too many bad days in a row, the kind where he barely gets out of bed, where Chris has to bring him water and small bits of food to remind him that he cannot just exist on his island of a mattress.But what good was isolating himself to this island, when he could not escape what torments him?

It’s his very skin, his bones, his flesh, his organs, and his brain… and the unflattering way all of these bits of him fit together.Ricky does not want to exist. He not only does not want to exist, he wants to die horrifically, painfully, the way his body deserves.He wants his skin to unravel and peel away from his limbs; he wants to extract his bones one by one; he wants his chest to rip open, parting his ribs and releasing the pressure there, and maybe Chris could reach in and pull out the blackened, shriveled thing acting as a heart.Chris could put it in his pocket, take it with him when he returns back to his world… Chris would probably like that.

“Rick?” Chris uses a single finger, ending in a dark, sharpened claw, and runs it down Ricky’s back, not heavy enough to tear at the blanket, but just to get his attention, to ask if it was okay to touch him.

“Hm?” It was more of a grunt, but it was a response.Ricky sniffles and pulls the blanket down from over his head, turning slightly towards Chris.His eyes are sunken, bruises nearly forming under his eyes from crying so much, his lips swollen and blushed. “What?”

Chris stands to the side of Ricky’s bed, his frame tall and lanky.He is dressed in layers of raggedy black clothing, piece by piece picked up over the years in his visits to the human world, but he had to rip holes in the back for his wings fit through.The stretched skin and thinning feathers of Chris’ wings lay folded against his back.It wasn’t unusual for him to drop a few dark feathers around Ricky’s bedroom floor, and some lay tangled in Ricky’s sheets. 

“Can I lay down next to you?” Hearing Chris’ voice was unlike hearing a human’s, it was deep and all-encompassing; it surrounded one’s body and head as if it were coming from all directions, despite being uttered by the single source of Chris’ mouth.It was intimidating to hear at first, but Ricky had grown used to it.Chris wasn’t particularly scary anymore. 

Instead of answering, Ricky turns onto his side again, curling away from Chris.Chris crawls into Ricky’s bed, spooning Ricky’s small frame.They have learned how to lay next to one another, Chris’ oversized figure laying flush against Ricky’s back and thighs and hips.Chris runs a few fingers through Ricky’s hair, pulling it away from his face.Seeing Ricky’s blotchy cheeks and pouted lips makes Chris ache. 

In his curled up position, Ricky continues to scratch at his forearms, his nails digging into his skin, attempting but unable to break through.Ricky knows what Chris could do for him, but he is too ashamed to ask.He feels guilty every time.

Chris reaches over Ricky’s frame, and grabs at his wrists, forcing him to stop. 

“I know, Rick.”The stretch of Chris’ oversized hand is cool, providing a shocking change in sensation from the burning sting just a moment before.Ricky scrunches his eyes up, the tension now unable to escape through his scratching.His chest burns, his ears grow flushed. 

“Can you just do it?” Ricky knew all he had to do was ask, because in asking, he was commanding.He knew Chris had to give in.A habit is a habit, and they both know it is better for Chris to do it where there are no lasting effects.

Chris had dropped his Death Note for Ricky because he wanted to take care of him.He had observed Ricky being upset, spending too many days curled up in the dark in his bedroom, and had thought maybe he could save him.Chris now realized that that goal was laughable.Now he is enslaved to Ricky and Ricky just uses him to do the exact thing Chris wanted to save him from.It was sick, really; this is what Rick wants, and Chris cannot argue.

“You know I will just heal you, right? You will never get what you actually want because I won’t let you die.”Chris leans closer to Ricky’s ear, inhaling his scent, wishing they could just lay here forever, no blood, no guts, just safe and intact in their embrace. 

“I know, but I want it anyway.It makes me feel better.Just let me have this…”Chris cannot argue with him. 

Chris moves away from Ricky, allowing him to roll onto his back, and their eyes meet.Ricky has grown used to Chris’ eyes by now, like dark pits glowing red in the center.It’s only his eyes, really, that remind Ricky that Chris does not belong to this world, the rest of him feels too natural against Ricky, the heat radiating off of Chris’ skin… it is like their bodies were built to encompass each other.

Chris straddles Ricky’s hips, making Ricky feel small beneath Chris’ weight, and knowing that same weight is going to make him hard in his jeans beneath Chris.Chris leans forward, finding Ricky’s damp face and swollen lips. Chris’ hands finds and pins Ricky’s arms, outstretched beside him, to the mattress below, with just the right amount of pressure to make him feel powerless, but he doesn’t want to hurt him yet.Chris wishes Ricky didn’t ask him hurt him at all.

Chris’ tongue swirls its way into Ricky’s mouth, the two forks of it encompassing Ricky’s, tasting the insides of his cheeks and his teeth and it already is enough for Ricky, who whimpers, but the sound doesn’t go any farther than into Chris’ mouth.Chris’ tongue could find its way down Ricky’s throat right then and Ricky would welcome it. 

Chris breaks off from Ricky’s mouth before moving down to his neck, running his tongue up behind his ear and down his jaw and over Ricky’s adam’s apple.“ _Please,”_ Ricky breathes, his skin burning hot in the wet wake of Chris’ tongue.

Chris lets go of Ricky’s arms, and uses a single claw to tear down the stretch of Ricky’s torso, tearing his shirt in half and leaving a shallow red cut down his body.Chris tears off the rest of the shirt, leaving it in tatters and tossing it off to the side.Ricky’s pale and bony chest lays exposed beneath him; Ricky is powerless. 

Chris’ tongue finds Ricky’s skin again, following from his collarbones and over his chest.Chris’ hands cover the sides of Ricky’s ribcage, pulling down lightly with his claws and breaking the surface of Ricky’s skin.Ricky shudders and pleads in his mind that Chris could just dig himself in already, open up his chest down the center and lick at his insides, let the tension of his pain unravel as Chris spreads open his ribcage… soon enough.

Chris licks down through the slices he has made on Ricky’s sides, down his stomach and towards the tops of his hipbones.Chris makes quick work of the button and fly with his tongue and mouth, violently ripping Ricky’s jeans downward to his knees.Ricky gasps lightly as his cock springs free from his pants and hits his lower stomach.He is hard and he knows he shouldn’t be but he can’t help it.Hard for his own destruction, hard for his own agony. 

Chris’ mouth latches onto Ricky’s exposed hip bones, sucking on them and admiring how cool human skin feels beneath his own hot mouth.Ricky whimpers again and squirms beneath the contact, the slices down his ribs pooling blood and dripping onto the sheets.Chris’ dark eyes watch as Ricky shudders, his cute face scrunched and yet still soft.It is a face that Chris loves.He hates what he knows has to come next.

Chris straightens up from his kneeled position between Ricky’s legs. Ricky opens his eyes in time to watch as Chris draws single claws over the fronts of his hip bones, stopping in the center at the base of his cock.The thin skin breaks easily, blood running down over his hips and off his body.The sting of it is ethereal, pulling Ricky out of his own head.His eyes roll back and close again.

Chris knows what Ricky wants out of this; he wants to be torn up, destroyed, dismembered beyond recognition… to live out the agony in an attempt to make him feel something worthwhile.If Chris hadn’t come into his life, he might have done it himself, made all the right cuts and sent his adrenaline spiraling until he bled out and became weak and died on his island in his room.Maybe it would have been the thrill he was looking for.But Chris had to play savior and drop himself into Ricky’s life and now Ricky can bleed out as often as he likes, as long as Chris is the one to do it.Chris is no savior… now he just orchestrates this sick and addictive game.Chris would have never imagined that he would have to habitually destroy the human he only ever wanted to protect.

_“More,_ ” Ricky lets out in a whine.He straightens his arms at his sides, exposing his bare forearms upwards.

Chris sighs, ruffling and resettling his wings against his back, and defeatedly reaches towards Ricky’s arms.Chris’ claws rake down hard through the skin of Ricky’s arms, splitting open his flesh and his blood quickly gushes and spills onto the sheets below him.Ricky’s blood puddles into his sheets, blooming into bright stains beneath where his body lays. 

Reaching forward, Chris once again takes a single claw and pierces it into the middle of Ricky’s chest, and begins to slowly pull.The claw tears into Ricky’s abdomen, splitting his chest and belly open.Blood pours out of his gut, his organs now on display.Although Ricky does not make a sound, Chris knows he is in pain; his consciousness has slipped away, and then his body will give up the fight to stay alive.Ricky cannot live long with his arms torn to shreds and his abdomen open down the middle.

Tears burn in Chris’ eyes as he looks at the mess of Ricky below him.What a beautiful thing he is forced to destroy, again and again.Chris was already a joke to the other Shinigami, watching obsessively over Ricky from his place up there, doing nothing to stifle his growing feelings for the human boy.The others had laughed at him for dropping his Death Note and thinking he could save him, attempting to bring him a friend, someone who really cared.That wasn’t a Shinigami’s place.That is why this plan had failed: it was never meant to work in the first place. 

Knowing Ricky is teetering on the edge of death, Chris swipes a hand in the air over Ricky’s frame, willing it back together.The puddles of blood beneath his body move in reverse, pooling into a stream running back into Ricky’s veins.His mutilated skin closes slowly, with enough time for the blood to find its way back safely inside of him.The slices on his hips disappear, and the tear down his torso closes.Ricky’s pale chest is whole once again. 

Chris sits back on his heels, hands on his thighs; even the blood that was staining his claws has found its way back into Ricky’s body.Ricky’s chest begins to rise and fall again, and his eyes open peacefully.He blinks a couple times, orienting himself, and looks up to where Chris is kneeling.Chris’ face is stoic, the tears that had run out of his dark eyes are drying on his cheeks, but he had wanted Ricky to see them.Ricky will never understand how hard it is.He will never understand the pain he puts Chris through, asking him to destroy the one thing he loves. 

“Were you crying?” Ricky sits up, propping himself on his hands, and bringing himself closer to Chris’ body. 

Chris averts his eyes downward, still inspecting Ricky’s form, confirming that it is intact.His skin is once again whole, up his arms, over his shoulders, down his chest, and towards his hips, it is whole and unafflicted and perfect.Chris forces himself to look up to Ricky’s face again.

“I am going to go…. You go to sleep or something, you probably need some rest.”Chris’ voice is only a whisper but it seeps deeply into Ricky’s head.Brushing Ricky’s hair back, Chris leans forward and plants a soft kiss onto his forehead.Hopefully Ricky knows what he means but doesn’t say.

A few dark feathers lay scattered amongst Ricky’s crumpled blankets.Chris stands from Ricky’s bed, careful not to stand up too tall and hit his head on the ceiling.He shakes his wings out, stretching them out partially as he turns and walks through the outside wall of Ricky’s bedroom.He is going to need some time away from Ricky. 

Ricky is on an island.The tears have passed, for now, but the ocean is still merciless.Another storm will come.

Ricky is in hell.Flames lick on his skin, but he has grown used to the burn.

Ricky is in bed.The blankets and sheets are no longer blood-soaked, and they still provide no comfort.He is still broken, he is still unhappy, and this time, he is alone. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the HIM song Resurrection off of Razorblade Romance. Also "fallen from grace" in reference to Reincarnate.


End file.
